Chương 104: Chapter 101 – Chelsea’s Secret Life

Ivy had started recognizing more words. Not enough to read quickly. But enough that Chelsea's letters no longer felt impossible. Enough that she could sound out most of the simple lines before Adriane helped her through the harder ones. That morning, however, the letter on the breakfast table was not from Chelsea. The paper was rougher. The handwriting was familiar in a way that made Ivy's throat tighten before she understood any of the words. Her father did not write often.

He had never been good at it, and letters from home usually came through other people who could write better. Adriane stood beside the table, holding the letter carefully in both hands. Ivy sat with her fingers curled around the edge of her cup and tried not to look too eager.

"It is from your father," Adriane said.

"I know," Ivy replied. She did not mean for her voice to sound that small. Adriane's expression softened.

"Do you want to try?" Ivy looked down at the letter. She recognized her name. She recognized Father. She recognized money, though the word made her brow draw together. After that, the sentences became uncertain. She hated that. She hated needing someone else to carry her father's voice to her.

"Can you read it?" Ivy asked. Adriane nodded and began. The letter was short. Her father thanked her for the money she had sent home. He wrote that the repair work on the house could finally be handled properly, and that the old debts with Master Bellan would be settled before the next market day. He said he had not expected so much, and that he was proud she had found a place where she could do well enough to remember home. Ivy stared at the table. Adriane continued reading.

He would have come for a visit, but it was harvest season, and leaving now would be difficult. Too many hands were needed, and the weather had been unreliable. He wrote that perhaps winter would be better, once the fields were quiet and there was time to travel without risking the whole season's work. At the end, he told her to eat well, keep warm, and not let anyone make her feel smaller than she was. Adriane lowered the letter. For a while, Ivy did not speak. The dining room continued around them.

Fiona was at the far end of the table eating more than she claimed she needed. Dewey was arguing with Bea about whether babies could hear insults before they were born. Edgar sat quietly with his mask tilted toward his plate. The manor carried on in pieces, but Ivy stayed fixed on one thought.

"I did not send him money," Ivy said. Adriane folded the letter once, then stopped.

"No?" Ivy shook her head.

"I do not have money to send. Not that much." Adriane's mouth pressed into a line that was almost a smile. Ivy knew that look. Chelsea. Of course it was Chelsea. The confusion did not leave immediately. It sat there, uncomfortable and warm. Chelsea had sent money to Ivy's father on her behalf and had not said anything. Not in the letters. Not in the care packages. Not in the little notes that somehow found space to ask whether Ivy was eating enough and whether the bed felt too empty without her.

"She should have told me," Ivy said.

"She should have," Adriane agreed. Neither of them sounded angry enough for it to matter. Ivy took the letter from Adriane and looked down at the words again. Chelsea had done something enormous, quiet, and kind without asking permission or waiting to be thanked. That was irritating. It was also terribly Chelsea.

"She is doing Chelsea things," Ivy said. Adriane gave a tired little laugh.

"That does seem to be the best explanation for most things." Ivy kept the letter. She tucked it carefully into the inner pocket of her dress after breakfast, close enough that she could feel it when she moved. By late morning, Fiona had decided she needed to walk. Dewey had offered to go with her. Fiona refused, claiming she was pregnant and not made of porcelain. Bea offered instead. Fiona refused again because Bea had already started looking at baby clothes and it was overwhelming.

When Ivy offered, Fiona accepted immediately. That was how Ivy found herself in the traveling merchants district with a pregnant einherin woman who kept stopping at every stall that smelled even slightly edible. The district changed every few days. Wagons came and went. Tents shifted places. Merchants from smaller towns and farther roads filled the open spaces with cloth awnings, crates, painted signs, and tables covered in goods.

The air carried roasted nuts, hot bread, horse sweat, soap, leather, and too many perfumes fighting for attention. Fiona walked with one hand resting against her middle. She still did not look pregnant to Ivy, not really. Fiona was too large, too strong, and too Fiona for Ivy to easily picture something small growing inside her. But the whole house knew now. There was no pretending it was bad meat, strange cravings, or exhaustion from training.

"So," Fiona said, inspecting a stall full of carved wooden animals.

"Hannah for a girl." Ivy touched the letter in her pocket and forced her attention back to the moment.

"You decided?" Fiona nodded. Ivy smiled at her simple way of talking. Fiona picked up a tiny wooden horse, looked at it from several angles, then put it back down.

"Still need a boy name." The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Dewey does not have one?"

"Dewey has suggested Dewey." Ivy looked at her. Fiona nodded gravely.

"Twice."

"That would be confusing."

"I told him that. He said people would figure it out." They continued through the market while Fiona considered names. Ivy offered a few from Leaf village. Fiona rejected most of them for being too delicate, too elven, or too difficult to shout across a field. Ivy did not mind. It was easier to discuss names than to think about the letter in her pocket or the fact that Chelsea had been gone only a few months and already felt unreachable.

"She writes every day?" Fiona asked after a while. Ivy nodded.

"Yes."

"You read them?"

"I almost can." Fiona's face softened in a way that made Ivy wish she had not said it.

"Adriane still helps," Ivy added quickly.

"But I know more now."

"Chelsea will like that." Ivy smiled down at the path.

"I hope so." She thought of Chelsea's letters. The careful words. The short sentences that were easier for Ivy to sound out. The way Chelsea wrote that she missed her. That she thought of her before sleeping. That she hoped Ivy was studying, but not too much. Chelsea had underlined that part twice in the last letter, and Ivy had managed to read it without help. She had been proud of that. Fiona stopped in front of a small purple tent near the edge of the district.

The sign outside had a painted eye surrounded by silver dots. A woman sat beneath the awning with a veil over her hair and rings on almost every finger. Her table held polished stones, shallow bowls, cards, and a round basin filled with dark water.

"Seer," Fiona said. Ivy had never trusted seers. She did not have a strong reason. They simply made promises too easily. Chelsea would probably have walked straight in, asked twenty questions, and somehow left owning half the tent. The woman behind the table smiled at Ivy.

"For a modest coin, I can show an image of a far off loved one." Ivy stopped. Fiona looked at her.

"You don't have to."

"I know." The seer's smile did not change.

"Only an image. No sound. No message. A glimpse. It may be present. It may be the future. But it is not the past." Ivy should have kept walking. Instead, she thought of Chelsea's letters and the empty place in her bed. Ivy paid. The seer took the coin and motioned for Ivy to sit. Fiona remained standing behind her, close enough that Ivy could feel her presence.

"Do you have an item that belongs to them? It would strengthen the image." Ivy hesitated for a moment, then reached into her bag and pulled out Chelsea's guild uniform shirt.

"Will this work?" The seer nodded and took it from her, wrapping it around the base of the basin. The basin sat between Ivy and the seer. The water inside was perfectly still until the woman passed her fingers above it. The rings on her hand caught the daylight, and the surface darkened. At first, Ivy saw nothing. Then the image formed. Chelsea sat in a room Ivy did not recognize. She was alone except for Passion. Both of them were only wearing towels. Ivy's breath caught. There was no sound. No explanation.

No context beyond the scene itself. Chelsea sat on the floor with her back turned, her long hair loose behind her. Passion sat on the edge of a pink and white bed, brushing it with slow, careful strokes. Chelsea's head was slightly bowed, and Passion's hand moved through her hair with a tenderness Ivy wanted to give. The image lasted only a few seconds before the water rippled and turned dark again. The seer leaned back, satisfied.

"Your loved one lives." Ivy did not move. Fiona touched her shoulder.

"What did you see?" Ivy stood too quickly.

"Nothing." Fiona frowned.

"Ivy."

"It was nothing." Her voice came out sharper than she intended. Fiona noticed. Of course she noticed. Fiona noticed far more than people gave her credit for, especially when the matter involved family. Ivy, awkwardly grabbed the edge of the shirt and dragged it off of the table with less reverence than before. The seer reached for the basin, but Ivy had already turned away. Fiona followed her out of the tent.

"Was it Chelsea?" Ivy kept walking.

"Yes."

"Was she hurt?"

"No."

"Then what did you see?" Ivy's hand went to the letter in her pocket. She pressed her fingers against it through the fabric.

"She was fine." That was the worst part. Chelsea had looked fine. No, not fine. Comfortable. Close to Passion in a way that made Ivy feel jealous? Betrayed?. The letters said Chelsea missed her. Chelsea wrote that she missed her. Ivy could almost read those lines completely by herself now. She had sounded them out slowly, held the paper close, and felt each word settle inside her. Why would Chelsea write that and then betray her? Maybe the vision was false. Maybe it was some trick.

But Chelsea had been in Valhalla, and Passion had been there, and the room had looked soft and pink and private. Ivy did not know why that mattered so much, but it did. Fiona did not push again for several stalls. When she finally spoke, her voice was gentler.

"You can tell me when you want."

"I know." They did not buy anything after that. Ivy tried to listen while Fiona discussed whether Hannah needed a second name, but the words moved around her without meaning. Her thoughts kept returning to Chelsea's bare shoulders, Passion's bare arm, the brush moving through Chelsea's hair, and the silence of the vision. Silence made it worse. In silence, Ivy could invent every missing word. She was grateful when they finally left the merchants district.

They passed near the Adventurer's Guild on the way back to the manor. Ivy had no intention of stopping. She wanted to go home, lock herself in Chelsea's room, and read the latest letter until she either forgave Chelsea or hated herself for wanting to. The guild doors opened before they reached them. Willow stepped out. The guildmaster's face was serious.

"Ivy," Willow said.

"Please come inside." Ivy stopped. Fiona's hand settled lightly on her back.

"Want me to come?" Ivy almost said yes. Then she saw Willow's eyes and understood that whatever this was, it had already been waiting for her.

"I will be fine." She did not believe herself, but Fiona accepted the words and remained outside. Willow led Ivy through the main hall. The guild was busy, but quieter than usual. A few adventurers looked away too quickly when Ivy passed. That was… weird. Willow opened the door to her office and let Ivy enter first. The desk was covered in reports. Willow closed the door, but she did not sit immediately.

"Sit down." Ivy sat. Willow took the chair across from her, not behind the desk. She held a folded report in both hands.

"I am sorry," Willow said. Ivy's fingers went cold.

"What happened?" Willow looked down at the report, then back up.

"Your brother was found dead." For a moment, Ivy did not understand the words. Her brother. The one she had left behind. The one she had feared. The one Chelsea had hated with a bright, frightening certainty. The one whose name Ivy tried not to think about when she was happy because remembering him always dragged the past too close. Dead. Ivy's first feeling was not grief.

"How?" she asked. Willow hesitated.

"Badly." Ivy gripped the sides of the chair.

"How?"

"He was found with signs of torture. His body was mutilated." The office tilted slightly. Ivy stared at Willow, but what she saw was Chelsea in the basin.

"Who did it?" Willow's expression tightened.

"Ivy…"

"Who did it?" Willow looked down at the report again. Her reluctance was answer enough to make Ivy's throat tighten.

"There is more," Willow said.

"I did not want to tell you this without cause, but you need to know what is being said before rumors reach you worse than the truth." Ivy waited. Willow's voice lowered.

"His crew was found with him." Ivy did not breathe.

"All of them were missing their hearts, eyes, and livers." The words did not strike all at once. They entered one at a time, each worse than the last. Ivy knew those words. She knew them from dinner. From jokes people made and then stopped making when Chelsea smiled too brightly. From packages wrapped carefully. From the way Chelsea spoke about food when she forgot that other people were listening. Her hands began to shake.

"No." Willow closed her eyes briefly.

"It is believed at this time that the culprit is Chelsea Wixx." Ivy stood so quickly the chair scraped against the floor.

"No." Willow did not argue. That was worse too. Ivy wanted anger. She wanted Willow to accuse Chelsea clearly so Ivy could defend her. She wanted the report to be wrong, the seer to be a fraud, the letter to be simple, and Chelsea to be the girl who missed her so badly she could barely write it. Instead, everything from the day pressed together. Chelsea sending money to her father without telling her. Seeing her in the basin with Passion. And Chelsea's pure hatred for Ivy's brother. She had so many secrets.

"Ivy," Willow said. Ivy stepped back from the chair. She could not think with Willow watching her.

"I need to go." Willow stood.

"You shouldn't be alone."

"I need to go." Her voice broke on the second time. Willow didn't stop her. Ivy opened the door and walked out of the office. The guild hall went quiet around her. The volume of the room didn't change but Ivy just didn't hear any of it. Fiona straightened near the entrance the moment she saw her face. Ivy did not stop. Ivy kept walking because stopping meant she might fall apart in the middle of the street, and she didn't know which part of her would break first.